


Stalemate

by Cat_Moon



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake would have died down on Albion, with Avon.  Avon needs to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalemate

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue to the episode "Countdown." Originally printed in a zine somewhere I think, but I don't remember where, sorry.

 

The mission had gone amazingly well, better than Avon had come to expect. Teleporting down to Albion in the middle of an uprising against the Federation had probably been a stroke of luck. Even running into his old enemy Del Grant--who blamed him for the death of his sister--was fortunate. Together, Grant and Avon had disarmed the solium radiation device that would have destroyed every human being on the planet. All told, he'd saved a planet, patched up an old feud, and gotten Blake another lead in his relentless quest for Star One.

Still, Avon wasn't feeling particularly celebratory.

The rest of the crew had left for the flight deck and Grant had been teleported back down to the planet, leaving him alone with Blake.

"You going to tell me about Anna?" Blake asked, gazing at him questioningly.

"You wouldn't understand," Avon replied, keeping his eyes carefully ahead.

"Wouldn't I?"

"I doubt it." Avon's voice, devoid of its usual bite, merely told the truth. He looked over briefly, then left the teleport area, and Blake.

 

XXX

 

In the corridor, Avon ran into Vila, almost literally. He had the sudden suspicion the little thief had been hovering there.

"What is it, Vila?" he snapped impatiently, when the man fell into step beside him.

"Well, now that you mention it, there's something I think you ought to know. About Blake."

Avon threw him a sharp glance. "You have my attention."

Now Vila seemed almost reluctant. "You cut that awfully close down there," he commented in a casual tone.

"That was my business and no one else's."

"What about Blake?"

"What about him?" Avon asked in annoyance. "Since you obviously seem to have something to say about him. My life is mine to risk--or perhaps you believe he's the only one who has the right to compromise our safety."

"You weren't the only one," Vila muttered.

"If you don't tell me what you're blabbering about, I'll wring your thieving neck," Avon warned in a mild but serious tone. After the trying events of the day, he wasn't in the mood to humor Vila.

"Did you know that we didn't teleport back to the ship when the countdown reached fifty? When Blake found out you'd taken off your bracelet, he decided to stay down a little longer."

"So?" Avon asked, feeling bored. So far he'd been told nothing of interest.

"A little longer is a highly subjective term, isn't it? At thirty seven, Cauder and I were both trying to get Blake to leave. He wouldn't let me call the ship--I thought he was going to hit me when I tried. At fifteen, he had Jenna teleport me up to the Liberator. But he stayed."

"Is there a point to this?" Avon asked in mild exasperation.

"Blake _stayed_ , Avon--till the end. Or what would have been the end, if you hadn't managed to keep the bomb from detonating," Vila said almost cheerfully, and took his leave.

 

XXX

 

Blake stayed.

Avon ran over the events in his mind, becoming more confused the longer he pondered it. Logically, there was nothing Blake could have accomplished by staying on Albion. He might have understood their fearless leader considering a foolhardy rescue attempt, had it been possible, but that was a moot point, since there wouldn't have been time to return to the Liberator, change into thermal clothing and teleport down to the polar cap. The only sensible thing would have been to teleport up to safety. Yet, according to Vila, Blake had stayed.

Faith in him? Avon snorted to himself. Surely even Blake wouldn't be that foolish. And even so, he should have teleported when it seemed apparent the device wasn't going to be disarmed in time--he could have called the ship with seconds to spare and still been whisked to safety.

Considering the facts, what logical reason would Blake have for remaining? He was obsessed with his Cause, willing to risk everyone's life for it, but Avon didn't think for one moment that Blake would so easily martyr himself to the masses. Sacrifice himself along with the population of a planet when there was still a Federation to overthrow? Not likely. Although reckless, he'd always given Avon the impression of someone willing to risk his life for what he believed in, but who also very much wanted to stay alive to fight another day.

Avon felt uncomfortable with where his mind was leading, though he didn't know why.

Guilt? Also highly unlikely, since Vila had also said Blake had surmised he'd taken his bracelet off. It was his own choice, after all. This time. Besides, while Blake was the master of worthless guilt, it would serve no purpose for him to die down on the planet with Avon.

All the possibilities exhausted, and Avon was still no closer to explaining the odd behavior. This would not do. He liked to keep a close watch on Blake, didn't care for not knowing what the rebel was up to.

It appeared there was only one way to find out.

 

XXX

 

Blake was resting in his cabin when the chime sounded, announcing a visitor. He rose from his bed and hit the button. "Yes?"

"I'd like to have a word with you."

Blake was rather surprised to hear Avon's voice; it wasn't often this particular person visited, and never for a pleasant reason.  "Yes, Avon, what is it?" he asked when the door had slid open.

As if strangely reluctant, Avon stood just inside the door, unmoving. "Vila--told me you stayed down on Albion."

A slow ball of fear began to roll in Blake's stomach. Whatever might come of this talk, he wasn't sure it would be anything good. "I see," he said calmly, taking a bottle of soma from a cabinet. "Join me in a drink?"

"All right," Avon said politely, and sat down at the table.

Armed and ready for battle, Blake thought. He postponed the inevitable as long as he could, silently busying himself with the social proprieties of pouring the drinks. He sat down and waited for Avon to make the next move--he wasn't about to make it easy for him.

"I was just wondering... _why_."

"Ah," Blake said. "Why should that concern you?" he asked calmly, even though his insides were jumping crazily.

"As our fearless leader, everything you do concerns me," Avon countered, regaining his equilibrium. "Should you have, say, a death wish, it would be in our best interests to know about it."

Blake managed to smile. "I assure you, Avon, I have no death wish. Have I given you that impression?" With luck, he just might be able to keep Avon talking around the subject forever. The man was extraordinarily susceptible to lengthy, circuitous debates.

"On the contrary, invincible godhood has seemed to be your forte."

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Blake said, in a manner of closing the conversation. It wouldn't be quite that easy, but he could hope...

"Still," Avon began slowly, consideringly, "staying behind served no purpose. Why didn't you teleport up with Vila?"

Blake stared at the wall. Why, indeed? He really wasn't quite sure of the answer himself, only that he didn't wish to examine it too closely. He'd been frozen, glued to the spot. Waiting, hardly daring to breathe..  "I don't know," he sighed, looking at Avon.

"What?" Avon said in surprise.

"You heard me. I'm not really sure why. I just...couldn't leave."

Avon's eyes narrowed. "That's illogical."

"I'm not a computer, and I'm not you. I have the option to be illogical if I want."

"As you constantly prove. Still, there must have been a reason," Avon murmured, with less fervor.

"I suppose, but I don't know what it is. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a headache, and I'd like to lie down."

He was mildly surprised when Avon left without argument. Then again, it was very possible that Blake wasn't the only one who wished to avoid revelation.

 

XXX

 

To Vila's chagrin, Avon intercepted him in the medical unit, in the midst of pilfering some adrenalin and soma.

"So there you are," Avon noted dryly, eyes going from Vila to the bottle in his hand meaningfully.

"Have a drink?" Vila asked magnanimously, seeking to keep his secret between the two of them. Blake was going to be mad enough at him as it was. "I love to share with my friends."

"All right," Avon agreed pleasantly, sitting down across from him and taking the glass offered. He sipped the liquor and fixed Vila with a level gaze. "I'd like to know why you bothered telling me what you did about Blake on Albion."

Vila squirmed a bit. "I just thought you ought to know."

"Why?" Avon repeated.

"Well, I...after all, he stayed down and all that."

"Vague. _Why_?" This time it was a demand.

Vila propped his chin in his hands wearily. "Why don't you ask him?" he whined.

"I did. He said he didn't know."

"There's your answer, then."

"No, it's not an answer. So I'm asking you. Why did he do it?"

Vila shifted under the intense scrutiny; it was starting to make his skin crawl. "How am I supposed to know?"

"It doesn't make any sense, does it? He should have teleported up. Why did he stay? You must have a theory, otherwise why tell me in the first place?"

"I told you--"

"Not good enough," Avon barked before he could evade again. "Why, Vila?!"

"Since when have you taken my word on anything?"

"I didn't say I was taking it now. I simply want an opinion; a wild guess from an idiot will do."

"Wild guess?" Vila spoke up in a stronger voice. Why not? Avon wasn't going to give up until he was satisfied, and he'd make Vila's life miserable, because he wouldn't get anything out of Blake. No reason for Vila to concern himself with them, it was his own hide he needed to worry about. The two alphas could take care of themselves; they didn't need him as a guardian. "It's pretty obvious, Avon. Even an idiot--like me--can see there's only one answer," he said boldly, gaining courage from the soma.

Avon's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me."

"He didn't care."

Avon blinked. "Care about what?"

Vila took a deep breath, hoping Blake never found out who had put the idea in Avon's head. He really had no choice, but he wasn't sure Blake would see it that way. "I agree with you: he was acting very strangely, wouldn't leave. I've never seen him like that before. I don't think he even heard us. He just stood there like a statue, staring at the countdown. To the last second, I expect, but I was on the Liberator by then."

"You still haven't told me why," Avon said, sounding like he was reaching the end of his limited patience. "And if you're going to say he has suicidal tendencies, he insists he doesn't and I tend to agree."

"If I thought he did, I wouldn't be here," Vila answered. "I'm not quite that stupid. No, it was because of you, Avon."

"What do you mean, me?"

"He stayed because you were still there."

"Because I was there," Avon repeated to himself in a puzzled tone. "Has the arctic cold affected my synapses, or is the rest of the world being purposely obtuse?"

Vila just smiled sweetly, gathered up his bottle and left.

Avon stared at the retreating form, his mind going over the words again. _Because I was there?_  Blake said he didn't have a death wish, but he was acting strangely and he wouldn't leave the planet. He stayed until the end. If they'd failed, Blake would have died with the rest of them... Suddenly, the puzzle pieces coalesced into one impossible whole.

_Would have died, with me. Because I..._

"No," Avon said very firmly to the empty room. "That's ridiculous."

 

XXX

 

Avon found himself outside Blake's cabin again, without being sure he really wanted to be, waiting to be granted entrance.

"What do you want, Avon?" Blake asked in a weary tone.

"To talk to you."

There was a hesitation, and for a moment Avon wondered if Blake were going to refuse. He searched until he found some anger to replace the uncharacteristic nervousness he was feeling. When the door finally slid open, he strode into the room with his hands on his hips, the picture of righteous indignation. "I demand that you tell me!"

"How can I tell you what I don't know?" Blake answered evenly.

"You're lying."

To his surprise, Blake's voice grew more aggressive. "I don't have to take this abuse from you, you know!"

"Abuse?" Avon sputtered, gaping at him. As far as that went, he'd given much worse, more often than not. "Why are you so unwilling to discuss it?" he asked almost sweetly, changing tactics.

Blake collapsed onto the bed, resting his head in his hands. "You are the most stubborn man I've ever known."

"Thank you," Avon answered sincerely. "If you must know, your odd behavior has been puzzling me to distraction. It makes absolutely no sense, not even for you."

"And you don't like puzzles, I remember." After a tense time in which he seemed to be weighing his options, Blake sighed. "All right," he said in defeat. "I was worried about you."

Avon's thoughts briefly returned to Albion, and Blake's threat to Del Grant. _If anything happens to Avon, **I'll** come looking for you._ His voice had been deadly serious, stunning Avon with its quiet intensity. "Yes," he acceded unwillingly, "but still--"

"It just...didn't seem to matter, I suppose."

"What didn't?" Avon pushed, even though he was feeling a thread of panic at the thought of continuing the conversation. Some distant part of his mind knew he was being purposely dense.

Blake looked up, fire in his eyes. "You're a bastard," he said gutturally.

Avon's eyes widened in astonishment.

Blake stood up abruptly, striding to the door and waiting outside until Avon mutely followed him out into the corridor, still stunned and confused.

Blake grabbed him loosely by the front of his shirt. "Apparently, I've cast my lot with you." He hauled the shirt closer. "But don't even let it cross your avaricious mind to try to use that against me in the future--I assure you, it will not work." Then, to Avon's continued amazement, he let him go and went back inside. The door whooshed closed behind him.

He still hadn't quite answered Avon's question.

 

XXX

 

Avon knew that the wise--yes, and sane--decision would be to forget about the situation and pretend things were as they'd always been. If only he could. It was on his mind all the time, even dared enter the sanctity of his dreams. After the firm withdrawal, Avon didn't quite dare approach Blake on the subject again. But whenever they were in the same place together, he found his eyes following the man involuntarily, his mind awhirl with confusion.

In all fairness, Avon wasn't _that_ naïve. The answer was plain. The problem was that he could not accept it as truth. It was incomprehensible...frightening. And then there was Blake's belief that Avon would use the truth against him; justified, he supposed, but Avon found himself annoyingly wounded at the accusation nonetheless.

There was only one thing he was completely certain of: continuing to pursue this would be courting trouble.

"Blake," he began in a quiet voice, unable to resist the opportunity. They were alone on the flight deck, the rest of the crew otherwise occupied.

"What is it?" Blake said warily.

Avon closed his eyes briefly on the difficult words. "I...give you my word that if you...decide to answer my question, I will not use it against you." Would Blake believe him? If not, he'd have an answer to another question, one he hadn't asked.

Blake sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"You did tell me I was the most stubborn man you ever met," Avon reminded him with a touch of amusement.

Blake looked exhausted beyond the physical, his shoulders slumped as he pretended to study the console in front of him. "You're an exceptionally intelligent man, Avon. You know the answer already, so why are you hounding me about it? To satiate your perverse sense of humor, perhaps? To make me squirm?"

"I gave you my word," Avon said sharply. "Contrary to what you might believe, that does mean something to me."

Blake glanced over at him, shaking his head sadly. "You should have quit while you were ahead, Avon. "You blew it with the 'contrary' part."

Avon took a deep breath and tried again. "It...comes naturally to me to be contrary," he admitted. "I regret that it's also involuntary. To answer your question honestly, I don't know why I can't let it be. I find myself needing your answer."

"And if I answered your question more specifically, would you believe me?" Blake queried skeptically.

Avon suddenly got cold feet. If he gave the right response, told Blake he'd believe, then the truth would be spoken aloud. Once uttered, never to be denied. Could either of them live with that?

Better to release them both gently. "I fear your caring may be misguided, Blake," Avon said instead, his voice sounding hollow to his ears. He closed his eyes and whispered the next words. "There's nothing left in me to love." It was the most honest thing he'd ever said in his life. And the most dangerous. If he was wrong, if by some chance he'd misread everything, then he had just humiliated himself beyond repair.

His eyes snapped open when he felt a warm hand on his arm. "I don't believe that," Blake told him softly. "I never have."

Avon kept his jaw tightly clamped to prevent his teeth from chattering. It also kept him from commenting.

"Now that you've admitted you know, I trust there'll be no more confrontations over it. If we'll both stick to our bargain and let it lie."

The light touch left Avon's arm, and he mourned for its loss, for all the losses. As Blake moved away, he found his voice. "Maybe now you understand," he said.

"That you hate yourself, and therefore can't imagine everyone else not feeling the same? You sell yourself short, Avon. And the rest of us along with you." Blake was wrong, of course, but it had hit close enough to the truth.

"Would it surprise you to know that I do admire you?" Avon looked around to see who'd spoken, dazedly realizing it had been himself.

Blake seemed to consider the question for a moment. "No, but I suppose you wish I'd put my admirable talents to better use than fighting for freedom."

"Perhaps I just don't believe it's worth risking our lives..." and, with soft intensity, " _your_  life for." How much closer to putting his heart on his sleeve? He shuddered.

Blake gazed at him steadily. He turned away from the probing eyes, afraid of their seeing too much.

"You've risked yours on numerous occasions. How do you justify that, Avon? Just yesterday you risked your life--not for any of us, but to save a planet full of strangers. You disregarded my cautious safety margins, as you're always accusing me of doing. How do you expect me to take all your bluster seriously?" Blake asked with a touch of teasing.

Avon fought the web this man wove, rallying his strength enough to defend himself. "It was the thrill of the challenge," he said haughtily. "I didn't realize I was risking anyone's life but my own; and my enemy's, which hardly mattered..." His enemy's, and perhaps also his own? He was no longer sure he knew.

"So, we've come to the stalemate again, have we? I refuse to believe you're the bastard you pretend to be, and you refuse to believe that I love you. Where do we go from there, Avon?"

"Perhaps it isn't that difficult to believe you...care. But harder to believe that you'd sacrifice the Cause for any...one."

Blake met his eyes. "Is that what it would take?" he asked sharply.

Was it indeed? Truth was a bitter pill, someone had once said. To prove himself strong, Avon would take his medicine.

If Blake were to ever actually give up the Cause for him...Avon would have what he really wanted. A reason to hate Roj Blake. A reason to finally be free of the oppressive love he couldn't handle and didn't want. A reason to walk away.

No amount of pretense could erase the stark reality. The Blake he'd grown to care about was an obsessed, idealistic rebel. A man who fought for what he believed in with single-minded devotion, a man with faith. If Blake ever changed so drastically, he wouldn't be the same person Avon had...his mind stumbled over the word, reluctantly...the person Avon had fallen in love with.

"What would your precious rebellion do without you, Blake?" Avon asked in a voice that held a measure of tenderness.

Blake waited, silently.

Avon believed in none of the things Blake held most dear, scoffed at his foolish idealism. In many ways, they were total opposites. But Avon's biggest secret was that he needed Blake to be exactly as he was. Required him to have his ideals, his certainty. His hope.

Only he could not accept them. Not in a lover. That road held only a slow death, the hopelessness of knowing the totality of his love would never be reciprocated. He could never compete, even if he wanted to.

For there was something else besides Avon that Blake was obsessed with.

The feeling of finality came over Avon, and gradually, peace. A sense of things regaining their proper perspective. It wasn't much, but it was better than insanity.

"Stalemate," Avon whispered.

Blake acknowledged him with a slight nod and bittersweet smile, and they returned to their separate duties in silence.

 

 

7/14/94

 


End file.
